


Waves

by Eekhoorntjes



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Rumbelle - Freeform, Rumbelle Secret Santa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-20
Updated: 2013-12-20
Packaged: 2018-01-05 04:46:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1089785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eekhoorntjes/pseuds/Eekhoorntjes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>valerie-jackson prompted: Only one keeping me afloat</p>
            </blockquote>





	Waves

**Author's Note:**

  * For [valerie-jackson on tumblr](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=valerie-jackson+on+tumblr).



> I hope you'll like it! :D

Rumplestiltskin never saw it coming. He should have, really, with his seer power. He had demanded the girl as his price, yet he had never intended for her to be anything more than a trinket, a bauble to clean all the others remaining in his castle. No, he had been invading other peoples’ lives that he had forgotten what an impact one person could make by staying for a long time to invade yours.

Rumplestiltskin’s past encounters had been fleetingly, far too short to cause any ripples on the surface of his ocean of darkness. The interactions with the desperate souls never left a lasting impact – at least for him. He had only been on the other side of the deal-making ages ago, and even then he had never felt this way before about a deal.

He had never been this happy to be done with a deal before.

He had never been this happy to not be called upon before during the day.

He had also never been this happy before about his curtains being ripped away by his maid.

He couldn’t quite make out _why_ exactly all of this didn’t bother him.

At first, he had been annoyed by his maid. She would ask him trivial questions about all and what not – to which he did not reply at first with logical answers, until she had put salt in his tea. “I asked what you would want in your tea, and you said, while spinning, ‘Yes, yes, do with it what you want.’”

That made him answer all the following questions his maid had during her exploring of the castle. Of course, he did hide her favourite book for a couple of weeks because of the incident.

He left it at the table for her when she had categorized his shelves filled with books for potion references. Apparently she had been neglecting the chores in which she had no chance of finding it. She had thanked him with the loveliest curtsey.

“Rumplestiltskin!” Belle called. He snapped out of his reverie and barely held on to his thread.

“Yes?”

“The doors to the gardens are locked.”

He sighed. There it was. His maid had brought some light into his Dark Castle, but that came with a price. Her light is trapped in his own ocean of darkness. She is sinking more and more every day – he only needed to wait for her light to fade away and her smiles to become either faked or brighter by her own sadness, or for her to escape. He has seen it happen too many times before already. “Any more facts you would like to state, dear?”

Instead of taking the hint, she smiled brightly and poured some tea in the chipped cup. She sweetened it with a lump of sugar before walking back to his spinning wheel. “The gardens need some tending to,” she said while handing him his tea.

He took a sip. Belle had brewed the tea just right. “Yes, yes, nature’ll take good care of it. No one pays attention to how well it is tended.”

“The ones you deal with here pay attention to your gardens.” She raised her eyebrows.

“And your point?” He turned with an elaborate flourish of his left hand. “It’s not like you have anything to do with my dealings.”

She straightened her skirts. “I was merely stating the facts, Rumplestiltskin. And your gardens are part of your estate, aren’t they? I should be the one to make it more presentable for visitors, especially now spring has arrived. I _am_ the caretaker,” she added conspiratorially.

This was her chance. She would be sure to escape this torture of the deal she had made – if he granted her the chance.

And he would give it to her after these past six months.

“Fine, dear, fine. I’ll open the doors for you. I have a deal to make now. Have fun gardening.” He put the chipped cup down on his spinning wheel, and he disappeared in a puff of smoke. He didn’t try to savour the way her eyes lit up at his words. He wouldn’t want to remember her enthusiasm to break free.

~~~

He had been away for a day and a half. He had foiled the plans of the Regina to capture Snow White – the girl needed to learn soon how to be a runaway without an invisible push from him. He was quite impressed by what Snow White had already managed, and he was certain it wouldn’t take long. He hadn’t even been truly necessary; he just needed a reason to stay away from his home. To stay away from the emptiness he would meet upon his return. It wouldn’t be a surprise as he had even let the gate way remain open. He had made sure his golden thread was in clear sight for his Belle. A girl as clever as she wouldn’t leave without a sure payment for the harsh way back to her real home.

He took a large gulp from his flask. It was midnight by now, and Rumplestiltskin needed to get home. Better now than later. He would still be able to see the ripples she had made on his ocean. His home had taken in her very presence, something he wished he could erase.

He appeared in the great room with a single thought and was disappointed when the golden thread from the basket was gone. She had refilled the basket with straw for the last time.

He gave it a heartfelt kick. Of course she left. No one would stay with him. Everyone around him was a bird, soaring high in the air. He pulled them to sea level, holding them down or even pulling them to his corner of darkness. Eventually they would break out of his grip and return to flying high.

He stumbled to the table and slammed on the surface. He was not in the mood to break things this night. He stayed up all night, making the deadliest potions and the most risky spells he might need for in the future.

It was far in the afternoon when he had regained some of his calmness. He slowly made his way downstairs, keeping his violence in check. He only wanted to get some tea before spinning the days away.

When he entered the great room, something felt off. The basket with straw was back in its place; the table, which he had eventually kicked at in a fit of rage, had been straightened. The tea set was placed on it as it was every morning and afternoon.

He forgot about his original plan and paced to the hall. With a snap from his fingers the front doors swung open. He had the worst headache in the world from being sleep-deprived and drinking too much alcohol, but he couldn’t care less about that when he saw his maid holding out seeds for birds next to the sparkling fountain.

She had scrubbed the dirt from both the fountains and the heightened stones surrounding them. When he neared her, the birds flew away. Belle turned and noticed him. A quick smile appeared on her face and she put the seeds on the stones before making her way towards him.

“I’m so sorry, Rumplestiltskin, I must have forgotten the time. Shall I make us some tea?” she inquired. “I know it’s past our regular tea time, but—well, I wasn’t certain if you had returned.” She straightened her blue skirts and cocked her head. “Would you like to have your tea inside or outdoors?”

His mouth had turned dry and he barely managed to utter, “Outside is fine.”

She excused herself and with well-timed click-clacks of her shoes, she went inside.

She was still here to brighten his days. She was still here to make him genuinely smile. She hadn’t left him.  

Yet. She hadn’t left him _yet_. As everyone would leave him eventually. She wouldn’t stay forever to keep him afloat and she will eventually take flight.

—————————————————————————

In the time Belle had been locked up in Regina’s tower, she had been able to contemplate a thing or two about her past experiences. Living in the moment, one would feel everything more intense or weakened. She wasn’t always able to see what the reason behind Rumplestiltskin’s or her actions truly was, and there never seemed to be enough time left to decipher them to a full extent.

In the past two and a half years, however, Belle had had more than enough time to look for every hidden meaning in Rumplestiltskin’s actions, and maybe more importantly, in _hers_.

~~~

She remembered the first few weeks in the DarkCastle with clarity. Her smiles had been feigned, her enthusiasm only coming forth from sheer willpower of not wanting to fail the deal she had made. Of wanting to be a hero and, of course, not wanting to be turned into the umpteenth snail. She, rather impulsively after being thrown in the dungeon, commented on her views of him. Intrigue had started then, simply for the way he reacted. It hadn’t been his words that had peaked her curiosity. Normally everyone would say, “Go back to your books, Belle,” or “A lady shall not speak that way.” No, Rumplestiltskin hadn’t waved her words away as any other person had. He had even given her a pillow with a non-truth or two.

Her first genuine smile had been when he didn’t shoot Robin Hood, when he had listened to her. When he had made her feel like she was no less worthy of some unconditional respect. She had never gotten the respect in her previous home from anyone as she had it now from Rumplestiltskin. It was safe to say she had not expected that after all of her comments on his actions in and outside the castle. Those comments, she now knew, were even truthfully felt by her, yet she wanted to use them to keep the Dark One away from her; to make sure Rumplestiltskin would never try to do anything without knowing full well that she would bite back vehemently. It turned out he was pleasantly surprised his maid was no brainless drone and _could_ make for wonderful companion, were he to respect her.

The ice was broken, and she became more comfortable in the DarkCastle than she had thought she could ever be. _He_ had even seemed to be a little brighter each day, a little more opened up for yet another slightly awkward day. At first he stayed away for days on end for his infamous deals, but after a scarce few months, he appeared more often than she would have liked out of nowhere to giggle, “How’s the cleaning today, dear?” He stopped startling her after she had tripped three times in a row out of surprise.

She had been happier than ever, yet a part of her, which selfishly wanted everything, still wanted to go on adventures, be heroic, to follow her dreams in the wide world.

She laughs a mirthless laugh as she scratches the eight hundred sixty-third tally mark on the wall with a part of a pristine plate she had broken for this soul purpose. _That part didn’t work out,_ she reiterates.

Every tally mark on the wall resembles something Belle will not forget during her captivity here: the Queen needs her alive and locked away for leverage – or any other purpose. Every tally mark resembles another day Belle’s heart is still in her chest. Every tally mark means the Queen, Regina, is still convinced Rumplestiltskin cares for her. And since Belle knows her history, she needs to give Regina the credit she demanded. Going from an everyday’s person to Queen is no easy feat.

She already knows she is meant to be kept away for some time later. In her sixtieth week of  forced stay in the tower, she had tried escaping. Not in a hopeless search for freedom, no. If she _were_ to break free, it would have been serendipity, but it hadn’t been the true goal.

No, she had had multiple reasons: first, she had to break free from her room. There was a slight chance the Queen’s countering magic was only placed upon her cell (Belle had tried scratching the magic symbol on the floor away to no avail; it had a protecting layer). Saying Rumplestiltskin’s name might have done the trick outside the cell, were her thoughts. If it wouldn’t work, the Queen wanted her for more than on impulse. The higher one’s value, the more security would be placed upon it.

Second, and this one she had dreaded more than the others, she needed to know what would be done with her after her escape. However insane it may sound, if Belle was too valuable to lose or even hurt, she would know enough to get through another rough year.

And third, she needed to know if the Queen would gloat about her failed escape.

Alas, she got chained because of her actions, and the Queen – after retrieving her herself – couldn’t help but revel in the fact Belle’s escape had failed. She had even let, “You are my trump card, pawn,” slip. She hadn’t been hurt, saying Rumplestiltskin’s name had done nothing outside her cell, but the Queen felt like she was winning. She had even smirked upon noticing the tally marks. The Queen had misinterpreted Belle’s intentions, thought it was despair that kept her scratching the days in her prison. No, the Queen had no idea what Belle’s odd mind was, and she was clearly underestimating it.

Her hope has grown stronger each day, with each scratch, and she knows she is only here, as sane as from the start, since Rumplestiltskin is keeping her drifting above the dark pit of hopelessness. She wouldn’t tumble into the silent darkness.

Her day revolves around scratching one tally mark on the wall, eat what is served (which is, by the way, not as horrible as she thought before. The Queen has style, even for her prisoners), think about the reasoning of someone she met in the past, and go back to sleep. The days blend into each other, each one looking nearly identical to the last.

~~~

The day she had struck a tally mark through the other four, making the count to one thousand three hundred and five, her hope was crushed for days after. She had too easily believed the man with the hook, and she had even felt waking to a nightmare when she regained consciousness.

She was still locked up and the first person to have tried to rescue her had also attempted to kill her when she was unwilling to cooperate.

Yet she was still alive. She was still useful for the Queen to be used against Rumplestiltskin, otherwise she would have been killed by the intruder.

But how long would she need to stay locked up, with only her hope to keep her sane? Normally, she could set a goal and work towards it, knowing almost at all times how long it was going to take to get to the goal. She had no idea in what timeframe she, the trump card, the pawn, was going to be played. It was safe to say she was getting mad in her little room in the tower, even being chained for no other reason than psychological torture.

The moment she thought of that, she calmed down. Losing her saneness was the last thing she needed in this situation.

So she kept on hoping, kept on drifting above the dark pit because of it, clinging to the edge as to not fall in total madness.

_—————————————————————————_

Belle couldn’t sleep. She was tossing and tossing in the guest bedroom, the soft, warm bed and blankets being too comfortable. She wasn’t used to it. She had accustomed to the cold cell she had been in, the cold rising from the floor up. No, she had been able to sleep there, but how could she _not_ be sleeping soundly in all the comfort Rumplestiltskin had offered her?

She slid out of the large bed and made her way to the chamber pot – which was in another room, as Rumplestiltskin had showed her when he had taken her back home. She opened the door, the handle being cold to the touch, and wondered how anyone could see in the darkness. Silly Rumplestiltskin. He hadn’t given her any candles for this windowless room.

She didn’t know how, but she managed to get the task done and remembered to press something higher on the… chamber pot thingy. She was startled by the loud sound that followed and took a step too far back. Suddenly, all kinds of items fell to the ground or against each other and still she couldn’t see anything. She froze upon the sound of shattering glass.

She had heard too many china plates shattering because she needed something to scratch tally marks with. She really needed to get used to that sound not being used for scratching endless tally marks.

Her eyes closed for just a short moment, but the room was suddenly filled with light when she opened them again. She squeezed her eyes shut tightly against the headache inducing brightness.

“Sweetheart, are you all right?” Rumplestiltskin gently put a hand on her shoulder and soothed her by circling his thumb. “What happened?” He brought his other hand to cup her cheek.

“I… I needed to use the chamber pot, but as I couldn’t find any candles, I must have knocked something over.” He had turned her head so she was looking him right in the eye, and she immediately saw something close to pain flash across his face. Everything went by in a blur, though. She felt disconnected from her body.

“I will clean this in the morning, dear. You better go back to sleep.”

She swallowed. Do the brave thing, and bravery will follow. “Can I stay with you, tonight? I—”

“Of course,” he interrupted, barely audible. “Watch your step; we don’t want you to bloody those feet on the glass.” He gallantly held out his left hand. She had thought he would protest in the subtle deal-making way of his, twist a word or three, and postpone any further developments to the next morning. She had only been “back” for half a day at most. Not long at all.

Willing her body to move, she placed her hand in his and let him lead the way. The light went out with a clicking sound—it was not something she was unused to, as Rumplestiltskin always snapped his fingers to light and extinguish dozens of candles on his whims back in the DarkCastle. She wished she could do that without needing to walk to another lit candle or grate.

He let go of her hand when she was on the side closest to the door. Rumple limped over to the other side and snapped the lights on. He rummaged in the drawer of the nightstand and fished out two candles with their holders and a small box. “Here, you can put this one on the nightstand. The matches are in the box.” He demonstrated the way of lighting one of the candles. She smiled at the little box. That such a small thing could light a candle for her. She set the box next to the candle on the nightstand.

“Dear, could you blow out the candle?” He had already put out the other lights in the room when she made herself comfortable in the large bed.

All was shrouded in the darkness. She focussed on his breathing, which, in turn, followed her every breath.

It had been a while since she slept in a room filled with sounds. She liked it. She turned to her right side, and she couldn’t help but think right before she drifted to sleep, _I am where I needed to be and I can’t imagine a place I would rather be._

She awoke the next morning clinging to Rumple’s left arm, and his lying awake for a long time, not wanting to rouse her from sleep. That was the moment she knew they would take good care of each other, forever.

~~~

They had come a long way. Belle had taken to living above the library, which Rumple had given her. They had been on dates – even though each and every single one of them kept on being crashed into. She stayed over at his place many times more than at her own apartment nevertheless, since she still felt odd in this world.

She had been locked into place upon seeing Regina again, and if it weren’t for Rumple being there, she would have certainly frozen in place.

Now, she was comfortably in Rumple’s house, observing Rumplestiltskin cooking for the two of them. She had given up even attempting making food, given how she had brought herself to near tears about not finding all the equipment and food. There were too many drawers, and behind some doors you would need to turn something to get what you were looking for. She eventually drew the line at making tea, which she _could_ do without a problem. Rumple had even rearranged a few things so the tea things were always in the exact same spot.

She fumbled with the cell phone until she found the letter sending feature. She painstakingly pressed the buttons until she had the letter all written. All that she had to do was press send, now.

She closed the device and put it away. Belle tiptoed toward Rumple and laid her hands on his shoulders. “How long until our date officially starts?”

He turned his head back slightly before answering, “Just a little more patience, sweetheart. I’m adding the finishing touch right now.”

She pecked his cheek and took a few steps back. After two more minutes, Rumple moved the dinner to the dinner table.

“Do you need help carrying?” she inquired.

She already knew he would shake his head.

He did, of course, to which she only smiled. He limped back to fetch them some water and set the two glasses on the table. She was still standing, and Rumple brought back her chair.

“Thank you.”

When he was seated himself, he said, “Bon appétit,” with that half-smile of his. “Let’s hope this date won’t be foiled by any foolish happenings.”

She smiled and wished him a good meal, too.

They were both silent, though. Rumple was still in search of a way to find his son, and Belle had noticed that. He himself wasn’t aware of it, yet she knew all kinds of possibilities were running through his mind as of now. Possibilities he would test until the early morning.

“How was your day at the library, sweetheart?” he asked when they were almost finished.

She pricked a cut carrot on her fork. “A few children came by to borrow a book. They haven’t read in ages and were very eager.” She swallowed. “They miss Snow White, their teacher. She would often read a book with them.”

Rumplestiltskin remained silent for a short while before assuring her Snow White and Emma would definitely return. He had let David bring her a message.

“Now, what shall we do the rest of the evening?” He raised an eyebrow in question. “Continue with the background stories of Storybrooke’s citizens?”

She sent the letter with the cell phone as she smiled at him, answering, “Okay. As long as we watch it together.”

A half-smile started to form when his own cell phone beeped annoyingly, causing him to swear. She stood up, walked towards him, and when he checked her letter, she pecked him on the cheek.

She had sent him: _My life isn’t as it used to be. I first felt I was pulling against the stream, drifting away on the waves. But your love has turned those waves into ripples that keep me grounded, Rumple. Love, Belle_


End file.
